From the Vaults

The nutters who contact me on Facebook are getting weirder.

Now, I wholly accept that if you put half-decent pictures of yourself up and allow people to contact you then they will. It is also fair enough that English is not everyone's first language, and I never mind anyone introducing themselves. I should point out, though, that there is no mention on my page of a BDSM lifestyle and whilst there are some pictures of me in PVC and plenty of black, there's no direct kink, no whips or bondage, nothing to outwardly infer specific preferences.

These have just baffled me.

“im submissive miss and i wanted to ask if youd consider having a slave boy of your own to pamper and spoil yopu and do everything you say ?x”

If I were you I’d consider English lessons. This one, again, IS a native speaker.

“hai name, spelt wrong what u lesbian girls ? If U Lesbian girls I am Like and Love U Please connect me or add me oke Thanks”

That’s just really, really funny. In so many ways.

“Hi ***** how are you hope your well, i have to say that you look stunning in your picture, i hope u had a lovely christmas and i wish u a happy new year.

I would love to massage your feet for you, please note that am really good at massageing feet as i have done massage course and i know how to take away stress from feet, neck and shoulders.

i hope u dont mind me messageing you and hope u contact me for a chat, take care byexx”

This is very polite and a much better approach, but is anyone else a little creeped out by the idea of a foot-perv doing a massage course?

Here I have one that just says “hi” and three kisses…, there’s another further down the page that just says ‘hi’, no message subject, no signature and the profile picture is a shot of a car.

“how are u im sure ive seen u b4 x” – This is… interesting somehow? If most of the people on my facebook messaged me every time they’d seen me, the site would overload. Why, just…what?

“hi miss, thanks for your accept.
im an obedient and good looking guy, 24 years old and i would love to be dominated by a strickt women as lifestyle.. i would love to feel my life owned by another dominante women and i live as per instructions. if your interested in making me your doggy slave please let me know, i would do my best to please you miss.
thanks”

I’ll be the judge of whether you’re good looking or not.

“Hi **** how are you hope your well
i have to say that you look stunning in your pic
i hope u dont mind me messageing you

i would love to massage your feet for you, please note am really good at massageing feet as i have done reflexology course. i hope u contact me for a chat byexx”

Foot fetish reflexology? Wait a sec, is this the same guy?!

“Hello ms *****: when are you going to post more magnificent pix?”

When I do. And messages like this make me check the privacy box…

“Hi!! Nice to meet you I'm from spain and i usually go to London. you're pictures are awesome! hi!!!! First of all you have a really nice blue eyes!! when i come back, possibly this summer, i would like to meet you and have a beer(it's a good way to improve my english hahaha ;-)
are you from london?
do you have a band?
really nice your pictures!!”

Holy enthusiasm Batman! And drinking with me will not do your English any favours: it doesn’t mine, anyway.

This is my favourite, though. Let it be noted that this guy was added because he’s a friend of a friend of a friend, although I’m not sure he knows I actually know who he is. He’s also a native English speaker, so mocking the delivery isn’t quite so cheap. Strange enough, he contacted me out of the blue a while ago and after a brief introduction proceeded to inform me that he was a virgin, wished no to be so and asked for advice. Well, for a start, how about not telling random girls on the internet?

He then proceeded to contact me for advice on a series of two and three day relationships, repeatedly ask me to put him in touch with various people (to which I occasionally obliged and they found it HILARIOUS. I’m sorry, I’m cruel, haven’t we established that?) and continue to bemoan the aforementioned virginity and wanting to ‘lose it’. Then came this.

“you know these pictures of in shiny if i can lose it to you i let you put then high heals anywhere you like :P xxx”

ARE. YOU. SERIOUS.

If I’ve translated this correctly - and your guess is as good as mine there – I think he’s referring to some recent pictures I posted of me in some extremely high fetish heels, to an album labeled ‘shiny’.

What I’m gathering then, is this… this thing, boy, whatever it is, is offering me its virginity and in return for my time will allow me to do whatever I like with my second-favourite stilettos.

Firstly, what kind of offer is that when I have volunteers for the same without the compromise of sex? Do you think you’re being daring and novel? Jog on, sunshine.

Secondly, hold on a moment, do you have ANY idea what you’re suggesting? Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m guessing not, I’m supposing it’s outside the imagination of anyone who can’t spell heels. In a world with no such thing as a safeword I’d be half tempted to take him up on that and leave him too traumatised to proposition anyone else he doesn’t know.

What hurts my brain is this fine specimen will undoubtedly eventually find someone to rid him of this pesky virginity and is clearly too stupid to properly understand contraception… That’s right, unless fluke and fate intervene, this will breed.

There you have it people – the future of the human race.

PRIDE - Even the Internalised Sort

I fancied you when I met you - oh, didn’t we all? Six-foot-something, heavily tattooed and pierced, one of those ridiculous to-die-for bodies, you quickly became the heart throb of our large cluster of misfits. I knew of at least five girls who had fallen head over heels for the tough guy looks and gorgeous smile, so I stuck to being your mate instead. Like I had a chance.

Maybe it felt once or twice like there was chemistry... I put it down to wishful thinking. At eighteen, you in your mid twenties seemed far too sophisticated. You had a girlfriend (have had ever since, for that matter) and too many girls after you, most of whom saw me as the safe platonic friend to ask “do you think he likes me?” and it was a stab wound, every time, to know you’d fancy them over me.

Only... I was completely, utterly wrong, and weren’t they all. Because under that hardcore exterior and behind closed doors you are THE single sissiest boywhore I have ever had the pleasure of, and my god have I had the pleasure of you in every way I can think of.

So next summer, whilst they are swooning over you in your vest top and cut-offs, I will be grinning at the memory of you in stockings and ribbons and frilled lace; in rubber; in cuffs and soaked underwear with the word ‘slut’ scrawled across that lovely washboard stomach. You ARE a slut, my slut, and a brilliantly imaginative and enthusiastic one at that. When they finish fishing for compliments and come to tell me that you’ve said they’ve got nice eyes, or you like their hair, I will smile and “oh really, wow”. I’ll be dying to tell them the things you’ve said to me, about me, about yourself, offered to do or in fact done in my name, but I’ll content myself with remembering how you sound whimpering, praying, begging not even for anything specific but purely groveling because I am your Goddess and you adore me.

And whilst I’m attached now and you should probably sort yourself out, I will forever take delight in remembering that you were my bitch.